


A History in Chocolate

by zoomzoomzuppa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco hates muggle supermarkets, F/M, Muggle candy, trick or treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 02:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16421069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoomzoomzuppa/pseuds/zoomzoomzuppa
Summary: Draco, begrudgingly yet not at all against his wishes, ventures to a muggle supermarket to buy candy with Hermione for his first muggle Halloween.





	A History in Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> This was hobbled together by me, but then beautifully stitched together by the most lovely of all the betas, **PartyLines**. Without her this piece would likely but the horrendous monstrosity it started out as, so please, shower her with praises, as she was the best hand-holder in the world (who also helped get this posted, so it should be said I'm lost without her.) Any and all remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

 

Draco never could reconcile his complete disdain toward muggle shops. The lights were too bright and made an awful humming noise (which was likely responsible for his niggling headache). The floors reflected his sneer back up at him in a most unflattering way, and everything else was done up in a nonsensical mismatch of colours. He simply could not abide the consumerist atrocity that was a supermarket. They were cesspools of muggle nonsense and utter mayhem, poorly designed for the convenience of the lazy masses. He'd heard the rumours of their oddity over the years, but had never had the inclination to venture into one - until now.

Hermione, however, was all smiles, wafting around aisle upon aisle of sweets like a butterfly in spring. She was a vision in a pair of faded jeans and a ratty T-shirt of her father's that she'd stolen long ago, and Draco's breath still caught in his throat at the sight of her wild musing, despite having grown so used to it. She was ravishing. He himself was stuffed into clothing Hermione had deemed far too extravagant for the trip - a pair of nice slacks and a casual button-up shirt she'd bought him for his birthday.

"I don't know why you insisted on wearing that," Hermione hummed absently, oscillating between the dizzying myriad of bays littered with sweets Draco couldn't hope to pronounce.

"Principle of the thing," he darted back, his cool gaze falling onto a bag of small chocolatey-looking-things he'd never even heard of. "What on earth is a Kit-Kat?"

Hermione turned to follow his eye line and her smile broadened. "Only one of my absolute favourites!" She squeaked. "Creamy chocolate poured over crispy wafers. They've got a delightful snapping sound when you bite into them. You haven't seen the adverts?"

Right, yes. Adverts. Draco was still getting used to the telly that Hermione insisted on having in her flat - the odd box that spewed inane drivel every Merlin-damned hour of every day. Why muggles would rather let their minds rot instead of being intellectually challenged was beyond him, though he did enjoy that Doctor Who programme he'd seen a fair number of times now. He did have to wonder, though, if that might be more due to his love of watching Hermione as she watched it - all avid anticipation and that stunning jittery excitement that set her eyes ablaze and his heart racing.

"I don't recall," he answered. It came out dry as he hefted yet another bag of over-indulgence off the shelf and into the basket slung against the crook of his elbow. "How many of these do we need, anyway?"

Hermione appeared next to him, half-hidden beneath at least six more packets of sweets flowing out of her grasp. Letting out a sigh, he relieved her of her burden, only to watch her duck away again for another load, himself now superfluously horrified.

"You'll know when we have enough!" She called back, and he could hear the roll of her eyes as she turned around to face a large pile of whatever Milky Ways were. She dug through the stand with a smug determination, almost as if she was enjoying his discomfort.

She was most certainly enjoying raising the hackles beneath his perfectly tailored shirt.

"Explain this again?" Draco was holding up a paper cut-out ghost with glittery letters that read 'Trick or Treat' that he'd found on one of the (far too many) shelves that filled the area floor to ceiling, inspiring nothing in him but an awful feeling of claustrophobia. How on earth did any muggle find such a cluttered world at all breathable, much less easy to navigate?

Muggles really don't give much thought to the individual's experience. That, or they’ve forgotten the blessed beauty of spatial reasoning.

Hermione shot him an amused stare. "It's just like Wizard Halloween," she murmured. "Well, except that every year, the children dress up and walk around the neighbourhood with little pouches for sweets. They come up to your door in their adorable outfits: superheroes, witches, zombies, book-characters..." She trailed off with a soft smile, momentarily lost in her thoughts. In sudden despair that such a need for costuming would befall him soon, Draco teetered back and forth as he listened, hoping to hasten their retreat from the store.

"Oh, they're simply wonderful! Anyway... They knock and hold out their bags - typically, they'll yell out trick or treat!" She squealed, in what Draco could only assume was an imitation of the wonderful children who'd be knocking at her door later in the week - arms spread and shit-eating grin stretching her cheeks.

"And...why exactly?"

"It's the tradition! I'm sure there's absolutely loads of history to explain how it's grown from the traditions in the wizarding world, but it's always been a fun holiday for children to enjoy themselves, dress up in costumes, and get free sweets.” She was practically beaming, and damn him if he didn’t find it atrociously endearing.

Caught between awe at the way she came to life with her excitement, and complete confusion as to why, Draco paused to eye his witch with no small amount of skepticism. "So why is it called 'trick or treat' then?" He ventured.

Hermione cackled and reached up to pat him on the shoulder with her one free hand, not bothering to hide the condescension she intended. "Don't you worry about that," she chuckled, "that's the fun part."

Far from being reassured, Draco felt his hesitation grow into something a little more concerning, but he did his best to ignore it in favour of once more feigning interest. He lifted another bag of sweets - the label called them Smarties - and cringed at the picture of what looked like medicine.

Hermione - hands suddenly freed of packages and on her hips - let out a huff. "I've told you, you don't need to be around for it," she said without looking at him. As soon as she was out with her feisty reminder her shoulders slouched visibly, and she quickly returned to her perusal of a whole new selection of sweets displayed on an endcap, albeit with a lazy indifference. Bundled in the jumper she'd previously had tied loosely around her waist, with her hair untamed and crowning her head like a fuzzy halo, Draco softened, immediately regretting how thoughtless he'd been with his snarking.

It went without saying he was desperately trying to remedy such an often-presented response.

"Love," seemed like a safe place to start. "I'd love to do this with you. You know how interested I've been finding out about your... culture. This time of year has just become... bittersweet as time's gone on."

Hermione took his hand - the one unoccupied by the basket - and squeezed while giving him a reassuring smile, before leading him down an aisle of decorations.

 

...

 

"Trick or treat!"

Draco had to admit, this was fun. Throwing sweets and chocolates into bags for small children was far greater a reward than he'd anticipated. Each child had a costume - Hermione had been right, they came in all sorts and some were brilliantly creative - and they were all so fascinated by his. He'd fast grown tired of insisting that he was wearing a very traditional wizard's outfit, and had even thought about changing into the jeans Hermione had suggested - until he considered how impossible she'd be if he did; or how terribly uncomfortable he would be with all that chaffing. Perhaps the authentic broomstick resting by the door was a bit much, but she was wrong about his dress robes. Even with the unrelenting questions, there was a certain flair in the way his best cloak pooled around his feet like liquid satin that made it worth the trouble. The beaming awestruck of the children as they would tentatively reach out to touch his robes in curious respect certainly helped his ego.

Outside of the questions, plenty of children found his answers quite amusing, and more than a handful asked him to do some magic. After a little bit (lots) of cajoling, he managed to convince Hermione that changing the colour of the light-fixture on her porch wasn't dangerous and wouldn't leave any children scarred for life; that in fact, it was an easy way to make hers the most popular house on the street without even breaking any rules.

(Except that it broke all the rules, and Hermione made sure to let him know so, even as she smiled at the reactions he got from the wide-eyed children).

One child had a witch's hat and a plastic broom, and Draco asked her what her lineage was before he could stop himself. Luckily, she was a good sport and played along, saying that she was of the house of Bieber and offered a dramatic curtsey. Draco didn't know who or what a Bieber was, but Hermione was uncharacteristically giggly afterwards, and that was something he could appreciate.

The night dwindled, and less children came by the house as time carried on. "Do they not stay out passed midnight, then?"

Hermione howled a laugh at that, lifting a chocolate from the bowl she'd prepared at the front by the porch. "Oh, dear, no. They're barely out passed nine most years."

Draco shrugged. "Unfortunate. We've so many sweets left over. What do you do with them all?"

Unwrapping the - what was it, a Kit-Kat - Hermione sank her teeth into it and seemed satisfied with the crunch and snap that ensued. "We eat it," she said around her mouthful.

Draco's eyes widened. "Why, you glutton! What happened to all the fruit and leafy-nonsense you've been feeding me all the time?"

Hermione sidled up to him, her body pressed to his as she kept what was left of her Kit-Kat between her lips. She prodded his with the chocolate until he opened to take a bite, and she stole her chance to sweep her tongue in after the tasty little biscuit.

"Who says you can't have sweets occasionally?" She asked, pulling away from him.

Draco licked at the smudge of chocolate at the edge of his mouth. "Oh, certainly not me." He scooped her up and over his shoulder before reaching for the bowl. "I've plans for these," he murmured, before almost dropping them at her reply.

"Perfect," she whispered. "It's time for me to show you the trick part of the evening."

END


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